If Your Heart Wears Thin I'll Hold You Up
by CapNap
Summary: After something drastic changes in Neal's life, he turns to the Burkes to help him through. Neal Peter-y Goodness. No slash, just some parental/brotherly love. Eventual whump, probably pretty major.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is based on an idea I had whilst gallivanting through the internet. Hope you like it. **

**Title of the story is from the song Beside You by Marianas Trench. I suggest listening to it. It. Is. AMAZING. AND fits Neal and Peter like Peanut Butter fits Jelly. (: I do not own the song or White Collar, of course.**

The phone in the Burke household sprang to life. Peter was working on the T.V. and yelled to his wife.

"Can you get that, hon?"

"Already on it, babe." And with a click of the phone he could hear El say hello to the person on the other end.

"Oh, hi Neal," El appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and looked at Peter. Turning at the sound of his consultant's name, Peter made the move to stand up. "Did you want…Oh. Alright then…Yup. See you soon…Bye Neal." El walked back into the kitchen to hang the phone on the receiver. Peter followed her, curiosity taking precedence over the T.V.

"What did Neal want?" Peter took a paper towel off the roll and wiped his hands clean from the dust that covered the back of the television. El shrugged and put her hands on her hips.

"He said he had big news he had to tell us."

Peter's brow furrowed as he thought about what Neal could possibly have to tell him. There wasn't much about the ex-con that he didn't know.

"When was he gonna be here?" He turned to face his wife and she looked just as curious as he did.

With another shrug she answered, "He said he was on his way, so he should be here soon." Peter nodded and walked up to El. He wrapped on arm around her waist and kissed her lips.

"I'm going to go and change before he gets here," Peter said taking a quick glance at himself. His previously white t-shirt was now covered in dust streaks. El nodded as Peter began to walk toward the stairs. "I suppose we'll just have to wait and see what Mr. Caffrey has to say."

**Please R&R. I am more inclined to write more if I know what people are thinking/know if they like it. Plus, I like comments/reviews and compliments are a nice thing to. (: Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hey Guys! Here's the next chapter, hope it's to your liking. (:**_

_**Again, I don't own a thing.**_

_**Based on the song Beside You by Marianas Trench (GO. LISTEN. NOW. PLEASE. )**_

A soft knock on the Burkes' door that would've gone unnoticed on any other day was promptly given full attention. Peter jolted out of his spot on the couch and practically ran to the door.

Yanking it open, harder than he wanted to, he looked to see Neal Caffrey on his stoop, like he said he'd be.

"Hey, Peter," the words fell flat on the concrete steps. Peter's stomach dropped as he realized that the news Neal had to say was probably not something good. He was around Neal all the time. He'd scrutinized everything about him and could read him like a book. Something was wrong. Neal just wasn't himself. The normal perky, bright-eyed, well-dressed Neal Caffrey that would usually just open the door and waltz in like he owned the place was replaced by a man who didn't meet Peter's gaze and whose electric blue eyes seemed to lose all the life in them. He was wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt with the arms pulled over his hands. His perfect hair stuck up in tufts all over his head as if he didn't even bother to comb it.

"Neal?" It came out as a question.

"Can I…" Neal motioned weakly to the doorway. Peter opened the door wide and moved aside to let his friend in.

"Is everything okay, Neal?" Just as the words came out of his mouth, El rounded the corner and spotted the Neal look-alike. Immediately her eyes were filled with concern and worry. She, too, knew that something was wrong.

"Neal, honey, is everything okay?" She crossed the dining room in a matter of steps and put her hand on his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, Neal wrapped her hand in his and let it fall to his side.

"That's actually what I came here to tell you," Neal said, still not meeting anyone's eyes. "Let's…uh…sit." He dropped El's hand and moved to the chair sitting opposite the couch. Peter caught her eye and they exchanged an anxious look. They were dreading the upcoming news. Taking her hand they moved to the couch together.

"Neal, what's this all about?" Peter said, thinking that the words sounded too harsh. "What's wrong?" He added gently. Neal looked up and met Peter's eyes. Then, moving his gaze to Elizabeth he began.

"You know how I've been saying that I haven't been feeling quite like myself lately?" He paused for a response and upon getting only pleading eyes from his closest friends he took a deep breath continuing with his story letting his eyes fall to the floor. "Well, I went to the doctor and he ran tests and did some...things and well…" he trailed off. This was harder to tell them then he'd anticipated. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt them, and he knew that that was the one thing telling them was going to do.

"What, Neal? What'd he say?" Neal could tell he was killing them by dragging the story out.

"I'm sick." The words seemed to hang in the air like a weird fog. He could feel their eyes on him, waiting for him to continue.

"Sick? That's it? Well, then, it can't be…" El tried to be the optimistic one in the situation, but was cut off by her husband putting a hand up.

"_How_ sick, Neal." Peter knew there was still something wrong and he had an awful feeling on where this conversation was headed. Looking up, Neal met Peter's eyes. He could tell Peter was reading him.

"Really sick."

Neal waited for a response, a question, yelling, crying, _something, _but the Burkes' just sat and looked at him. He could tell they were thinking the exact same thing. _He doesn't _look _too sick. How sick could he be?_ But, the answer to that was he could be very sick. And he was.

"What do you have?" Peter's voice quivered a bit. Neal could tell he was scared, or concerned, or something.

"Cancer. Its terminal. Stage four. There's a tumor on my lung and it's spreading," Neal hung his head. It was very advanced, but he didn't have the heart to tell them right out how long he had, although he knew that question was coming. El's hands covered her mouth and her eyes squeezed shut. Peter let his head fall into his hands. Neal's heart broke as he watched them. He didn't think he'd be able to handle the next part of the conversation. Peter, again, was the one to ask. It came out as a choked up whisper.

"How long?" It was barely audible even in the quiet that held the whole household in its clutches. Tears began to form at the corners of Neal's eyes. He knew he wasn't going to able to keep them in for much longer. It was just too much.

"About…" his voice broke. "…about a month." El let out a heavy breath. She, too, was trying not to cry. Letting his hands cover his face, Neal began to cry. Sobs racked his chest and his breaths were ragged. El got up and lifted Neal into an embrace. Tears streaked her cheeks as she held Neal. She rubbed one hand on his back and the other through the hair on the back of his head softly _shushing_ him as a mother would do to her son. El rocked him gently and Neal just sobbed all the harder into her shoulder. His arms were wrapped tightly around her.

Peter looked at his wife and the broken man in her arms. Neal no longer looked like the confident, classy man he'd always been known as. Peter couldn't help feel his heartstrings tugged as he watched the scenario in front of him. If Neal wasn't their adopted son before, he was now.

Getting up from the couch, he walked around the coffee table to his wife and best friend. Peter wrapped his arms around the two and held them both. He could feel Neal's sobs grow more violent as he squeezed tighter. He could feel Neal shifting within the embrace and soon he'd turn to hug Peter straight on. With one hand still on Neal's back, she maneuvered so that she could be with both him and her husband.

And there they stayed; just holding each other like their lives depended on it.

**Again, R&R. Its much appreciated! Tell me what you think. More WHUMP to come. I promise. And, by the way, I am not a medical personnel, I don't know the first thing about this stuff, so its basically all made up. :D **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So, I'm back! I'd like to send a shout-out to Ca Staub for returning my attention to this story. (: My inspiration for this has gone a bit downhill and I've had many other muses appear for other stories (i.e. THE AVENGERS ). I'm sorry to tell you all that this probably won't be a long story (only a few more chapters, unless a stroke of brilliance pushes it ahead). I apologize for this chapter, it really doesn't move the story ahead any, (and I don't really know if I like it yet) but I needed something to get the gears moving again. Enjoy, and look out for more stuff here soon.**

Light streamed through the sheer curtain in the Burke's bedroom, tickling Peter's eyes and causing him to stir. He turned over, trying to convince himself that he didn't actually _have _to go to work that morning. Glancing at his clock, he realized that he had no time to spare if he didn't want to be late to the office. With a groan, he rose from the bed and trudged downstairs. He rubbed his eyes groggily. As he rounded to end of the staircase, he noticed a smell of fresh coffee floating in the air.

He followed the smell to the kitchen, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Neal pouring coffee into two mugs, leaving the third empty.

"Morning, Peter," he greeted, turning to him with a smile. Peter stared at him with blank eyes, trying to remember if what had happened the previous day had actually happened at all. Neal looked like his normal self again: tailored black suit, perfectly fixed hair and black fedora sitting on the edge of the counter. His eyes had their usual glint of mischief back, and his smile seemed genuine.

"Neal..." Peter said, taking the mug from his outstretched hand. He eyed him up and down, still straining his mind trying to figure out what was real.

"Want something to eat? I got your favorite," Neal said, holding up a white paper bag. Peter nodded absently and moved to a seat at the bar. He watched intently as his friend moved expertly around his kitchen, grabbing a plate and knife from their respective homes, and unwrapping Peter's breakfast.

"There you go." Neal placed the dish in front of him.

"Thank you," Peter said, searching Neal's eyes for any sign of a facade. He finally resolved that it had to have been a dream, because obviously, his friend was perfectly fine. "You know, Neal, I had a crazy dream last night."

"Oh, yeah?" Neal said, giving Peter a 'this-ought-to-be-good' look.

"Yeah, yeah. You were in it. Actually, it was about you. You came over and you told El and I that you were dying. Cancer or something," Peter said, incredulous. The words seemed strange in his mouth. Neal shifted his weight and his expression grew serious.

"Peter," Neal said softly. "That wasn't a dream...That was yesterday."

"But..." Peter trailed off, not sure how the broken man he remembered could possibly be the same as the one standing before him now. "You don't...You look..._better_. Like yourself."

"Peter, just because I'm dying doesn't mean I have to dress like a slob," Neal joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"You're still going to work?" Peter asked, still not willing to believe the other man's words.

"These suits don't pay for themselves, you know."

"But..."

"And speaking of work, you better hurry up, because I'm leaving whether you're ready or not," Neal said, changing the subject. He didn't want to dwell on the topic any more than he had to. Neal had broken down last night, the only time in his life he had done so. He resolved never to do that again. The hurt he had seen his Peter's eyes the previous day was something that he couldn't bear. Knowing that he had caused that pain, made him feel even worse, so he vowed to himself that as long as he was living, he wasn't going to hurt him again.

"Oh, so you're my mother now?" Peter quipped, making a face at Neal as he started to eat. Neal just waved his hand dismissively and continued to sip his coffee.

New York's streets were as busy as ever, horns blasting and the constant rush of traffic vibrating the air. Neal and Peter walked side-by-side on the sidewalk, like every morning. Each was content to stay in his own mind, quietly pondering their own problems, although this morning their thoughts were far from separate. Peter was the first to break the silence between them.

"Are you going to tell them?"

"I don't know," Neal said, knowing exactly who Peter was referring to.

"They're going to have to find out sooner or later."

"I know, but...how?" It was Peter's turn to be at a loss.

"Yeah, I get you. Not exactly water cooler chit-chat, huh?" Neal shook his head with a small smile.

"No, not exactly."

"So, what then?"

"I'll probably just...wait."

"For?"

"For the right time. The right opportunity."

"And if it doesn't come?"

"Until I absolutely have to tell them." Silence fell over them once again. Peter sighed heavily, the day already taking it's toll on him.


End file.
